Thaw
by MyGoldenGlow
Summary: What happens when Fire and Ice mix? A chemical reaction like nothing Walter has seen in years.
1. Ice

**Disclaimer - Not Mine**

**Takes place after 1x06 "The Cure"  
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She was cold.

Not physically – the heater was running at a pleasant 67 degrees. But ice was running from her heart throughout her body, freezing every inch of her. The card slipped down from her grasp, landing on the floor with barely a sound.

She was frozen.

Police instincts should have kicked in. She should be clearing the house, her gun at the ready. But she wasn't. She should call someone, the police, maybe, to get them to do the job she found herself unable to do. But she didn't. She stood there, replaying memories of a man who should be dead. Her finger twitched – pulling the trigger for the last and final time. But there was no man for her to shoot. Not here, anyway.

She was numb.

She could not feel herself. Nothing seemed right – the world she knew had been stripped away and changed so many times. First the plane crash. Then the explosion. The mental connection. The betrayal. She could list everything that had happened to her that made the world she had once knew seem so far away. So distant. This brought her newly built lie, the one she had spent weeks constructing, crashing to the ground. She could make herself a new person – a different one, maybe even a better one. But she couldn't escape everything. And despite what Peter said, this man was untouchable. And she was not.

She was ice.

Her heart had long since frozen over. Her body sat still, waiting for the change in her to become complete – to solidify. She would become unfeeling, cold, distant. She would care about no one and no one would feel her pain. She would seek him out and deliver that final shot. She would destroy anyone who tried to show her compassion. She wanted none. She had been on the verge of a crater – and now she was falling in. The ice had taken her heart – now it was taking her soul.

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	2. Fire

**Disclaimer: not mine!**

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He was hot.

Ever since their more-than-friendly conversation he had felt the heat rising in his body. He was lying down uncomfortable on top of the covers – the fans were blowing and all he had on was a pair of boxer shorts. But still he could not find the cool comfort he was seeking.

He was burning.

Strange tingles went through him, singeing every particle of him as he remembered her face. They was she looked when she smiled at him. The sadness in her eyes when she told him of her past. The walls she had tried to keep up by adding sarcasm, but then failing. He wanted to make it better – he would do anything to make it better. But she wasn't his to make better. Not this time – the only thing he had could never be repaired. But if he took her in, made her his, adopted her as a friend, as a partner, could he succeed in fixing her? He had tried before and failed – the evidence of his failure was sleeping in the other room. But could he make her better?

He was alive.

He couldn't stay here. He wanted to move – to run. Every movement, every breath that was being taken in the other room made him uncomfortable. He jumped up, grabbing his pants and his shirt – but he didn't button it. Barefoot he left the room, desperate to go _somewhere_. Dimly, he was reminded of the old him, who left whenever things got too stuffy for him. The feelings then were the same now – but he wasn't planning on running away. Not just yet. He had things that needed to be done, and, despite his nature, he wasn't going to let this feeling get to him. He wasn't running away – he was running to.

He was fire.

The more he ran, the more he felt the fire burning in him, screaming for attention. It was burning him up inside, and he had to get rid of it, had to use it. Anything, anyone, he had to give it away, to share this intense feeling of _life_ with someone else. Someone who had no life in them – he knew just the person. She needed to feel something, to know that life was still worth living, that the burning she felt inside her wasn't pain, but something to take pleasure in. Take pleasure in the fact that she was alive – because if she didn't, she wouldn't be alive much longer.

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	3. Chemicals React

**It's been a while. Mainly because I'm busy - and a bit lazy. This has been in my head ever since I started writing this story, but oh well. **

**Disclaimer: Not Mine! if it was i wouldn't make the next episode start in JANUARY!! (i needed to vent. none of my friends watch Fringe - they don't understand)  
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He was at the door, and barely out of breath. He wondered if this was what it was like to have a "out of body" experience. He doubted it – he felt solid. He could see her still figure through the blurred windows, frozen in front of the door. He reached for the handle and it opened with ease. She jerked around, staring wildly at him. He stepped inside and let the door close behind him.

"Hi," he said simply.

Then their lips were crashing into each other, and they each clutched the other closer. It wasn't the way a first kiss should be – there was no tenderness in it, no hesitation, just a wild craving for loving and feeling.

Neither was sure who started it. Neither really cared. His burning desire was too strong for her to overpower, and their bodies had minds of their own. Their hands moved wildly, struggling to get closer than humanly possible, while their lips never parted.

His need to cure her – to fix her – was practically palpable in the tiny landing. He was almost too strong, too rough, as he fought to make her feel something. His lips attacked hers, but she didn't seem to mind. He wanted nothing more than to give her the pain and horror and joy that had been his constant companions throughout the years. He had to get rid of the ice he could see was building inside her overwhelming her.

This was the world they lived in – the horrifying, terrible world – and this was the way they coped. What else could be done, when commonly accepted "laws" were broken in every minute? When the things that were accepted as "fact" could be proven wrong by a simple leap of faith and a mathematical sequence? He burned hot and she blew cold and it was the way they dealed.

As his fire flowed into her, the ice around her heart began to melt.

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